Some Might Say
by AMKelley
Summary: Will's mother is convinced he's mentally ill because he likes boys. This prompts her to send Will to therapy in hope that he can be cured before it gets worse. Hannibal, however, does not find this to be in very good taste. *AU, PWP, ephebophilia, teen!Will, therapy, slight homophobia, sexual content, first time, fingering, rimming*


There is a meek and timid knock to Hannibal's office door, rousing him from his reverie. Hannibal sets down his journal and glances at his watch, noticing that his four o'clock appointment has arrived a few minutes late. Not very punctual, but Hannibal supposes that can be excused just this once. He walks over towards the door and opens it up to be greeted by his young patient.

"You must be William Graham. Please, come in," Hannibal greets, stepping aside and gesturing towards the chairs.

The boy takes that as his cue to walk inside, shuffling past Hannibal's looming presence mostly because he's anxious to get this over with. He puts his hands inside his pockets, a nervous tick he's always had, and flinches slightly when he hears the door click behind him. Will looks around to gauge his environment as Hannibal comes up to his side.

"If you'd take a seat we can get started," Hannibal informs, placing a hand on Will's shoulder.

Will mutely nods, flinching away from Hannibal's touch and taking his place in one of the plush chairs. Hannibal watches the boy shuffle on knobby legs, admiring the stretch of his neck that is almost somewhat concealed by unruly chocolate curls. The young boy is truly a sight to be praised in silence. Hannibal sits down across from Will, unbuttoning his jacket as he does.

Will folds his hands in his lap, fidgeting with his thumbs before he lets his eyes drift up the length of the psychiatrist his mother hired. Dr. Lecter was supposedly the best in town and going by the state of his well-tailored suit it appeared to hold merit. Will's eyes drifted higher up to his broad chest until finally reaching Hannibal's stoic face.

The older man is already staring at him, prompting Will to immediately sever eye contact. Hannibal smirks at this subtly, noting the way Will refrains from looking people in the eye as another nervous tick. Will squirms in his seat a little as Hannibal continues to stare at him, studying the boy thoroughly with observant eyes.

He was barely fifteen years old and Will was already so grown in a number of ways, putting aside his still somewhat gangling limbs. Will had a head of downy chocolate curls that framed his baby face and his irises were the color of the ocean after a storm. Everything about the boy was absolutely breathtaking, deserving of the utmost attention.

"So, William, why is it that you're here today?" Hannibal asks, stilling his deductions for a moment.

"I'm sure _Agatha_ has already explained it to you, Dr. Lecter," Will replies with well hidden contempt, keeping his head down as if he's ashamed.

It's true. Agatha, Will's mother, had divulged in great detail just what exactly was "wrong" with her son. Hannibal had sat there, listening to this hag of a woman go on about Will's _condition_. Agatha was an insufferable woman with slanted views, especially when it concerned her son, and she looked like one of those awful disciplinaries you'd find at a boarding school. She perpetually had her long hair pulled into a tight bun and her clothes were stately, corresponding directly with her knock-off jewelry.

Hannibal had found Agatha to not only be distasteful in every sense of the word, but also quite ignorant regarding what she wanted from Hannibal.

"Between you and me, Agatha may have perverted the facts with her own... _opinions_," Hannibal states, watching Will fidget even more. "I would like to hear your side of the story. After all, _you_ are my patient. Not Agatha."

"Well, I'm here because I'm confused. About myself," Will says slowly, forcing each syllable out as he becomes more choked up. "I think I might be..."

"It's alright, William. There is no judgment in my office. You are free to express yourself in anyway you see fit," Hannibal assures, bringing the boy at ease. "Please, continue."

Will looks up at Hannibal on a whim, making eye contact long enough to study the lines of Hannibal's face. The edges of his cheekbones are angular and there are creases that distinguish Hannibal in unique ways. He is noticeably graced with age, but Will finds an underlying attractiveness about Hannibal and Will hates himself for staring too long at Dr. Lecter.

Will has to push away the alluring thoughts flooding his mind when he looks at Hannibal. The thoughts are impure and they come bearing sin-filled notions that his mother Agatha was destined to expel from him. As much as Will hated the feelings that overcame him whenever he found a man attractive, he ultimately could not control it.

Will looks away from Dr. Lecter.

"I get these _feelings_ whenever I look at other boys," Will explains, slumping his shoulders in shame and unwilling to look up at Hannibal again.

"Tell me, how long have you felt this way?" Hannibal goes on to ask, looking directly at Will.

In fact, he hasn't taken his gaze off the boy for one second because he's too caught up in Will's body language. There's so many emotions radiating off of him all at once that it's overpowering. Anxiety, anger, resentment, lust... While the first three can be explained away, Hannibal is having a hard time deciphering why Will might be experiencing lust at this particular moment. Maybe a thought about a boy he goes to school with?

"I'm not sure what precise moment I came to this _revelation_..." Will scoffs indignantly.

"Sarcasm is your worst enemy, William," Hannibal observes, prompting Will to sigh loudly.

"Three years, okay? I've known for three years and I was able to keep it a secret until recently," Will confesses.

"How did Agatha find out?"

Will's face falls ever so slightly, looking guilty as if he's been caught stealing and trying to come up with a good lie. It was the first time anyone has asked Will about his sexuality without blowing up and it was so foreign to him that it couldn't possibly be real. But Hannibal's face remains stoic and relaxed as if he's heard this a thousand times before, and maybe he has?

Still, Will was apprehensive about the idea of divulging his personal life to a complete stranger... Even if it was Dr. Lecter's job or the fact that Dr. Lecter was a man who was oddly handsome in his own way. Will was definitely going to be in trouble if he kept thinking about his therapist like that. After all, Hannibal read people for a living.

"_Sin doesn't escape the eyes of God_," Will recites from overused practice. It was a line his mother said on many occasions to keep him in check. "Which is, in a sense, a nice way of saying that my _mother_ caught me with my tongue halfway down another boy's throat. Or that I was too stupid to remember to lock my door."

"What you did wasn't your fault, William. What you are feeling is perfectly normal, especially at your age," Hannibal reassures, knowing it's what Will needs to hear right now, because it's the truth. "There's nothing wrong with being homosexual."

"Try telling that to my _mother_," Will huffs mirthlessly. "She says it's immoral."

"But do _you_ think it's immoral?" Hannibal presses, starting to hear Agatha bleeding in through Will's words even more.

"I don't know. Maybe? No..." Will gushes, shaking his head. Will is having a hard time articulating the question because he's so used to his mother's ranting. "I don't want it to be immoral. I don't want to be sick either."

"That's your mother talking. You're not ill, William," Hannibal clarifies, leaning forward slightly towards Will.

Hannibal wants to reach out to place a hand on one of Will's knobby knees and run his hand up the narrow limb. The thought of Will being told the way he loves is wrong made Hannibal's blood run cold. Will wasn't wrong. Agatha was.

"Agatha is convinced that homosexuality is a disease and that it can be cured, but that's just her amateur opinion. It doesn't mean it's true," Hannibal says swiftly, holding Will's attention. "You don't need curing because you're not sick."

"So where does that leave me?" Will inquires, locking gazes with Hannibal again. Will looks like a lost puppy, searching desperately for a hint of leverage. "My _mother_ is paying you to cure me. You say I'm not sick, so why am I here?"

"We are here because of you."

Will makes a put off expression as if he's been talked in circles and Hannibal drinks in the sight, wanting to learn and memorize each little quirk the boy has to offer. Hannibal takes note of how Will slowly raises his thumb to his mouth, capturing the nail between his teeth so he can gnaw on it nervously. This boy certainly had plenty of nervous ticks to spare.

"So, what do we do now?" Will asks, finding this to be more redundant by the minute.

"We can talk, or we can sit here in silence. Whichever you prefer," Hannibal tells the boy.

"What do we talk about?" Will inquires with some interest.

"Anything at all. We can talk about school, your life at home, boys..." Hannibal trails off, letting the last suggestion hang in the air as he clenches his jaw and swallows. "Whatever comes to mind."

"Boys?" Will asks dubiously, eyes drifting up to Hannibal's neutral expression. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to make it seem like being attracted to men is okay."

"Shouldn't it be?" Hannibal counters.

"Not if Agatha is paying you to do the opposite," Will points out blatantly.

"Agatha is paying me to help you and that's exactly what I'm doing," Hannibal says, finding a loophole.

"You know what she meant..."

"Then she should know I don't offer that kind of therapy," Hannibal replies just as quick. "The type of therapy she wants from me is insulting to not only my profession, but to everyone who is afraid of being themselves because of people like Agatha."

"You make it sound personal, doctor," Will deduces, noticing the faint facial twitches as Hannibal speaks.

Maybe it was personal just a little for Hannibal, but it didn't make his point any less true. Hannibal has dealt with people like Agatha a lot in his lifetime and every one of them had been wrong. The only thing Will needed therapy for was accepting himself as he is and maybe to get a few things off his chest. Will was as normal as anyone else.

"I take my job and my patients seriously, yes," Hannibal offers in response to Will's observation.

"It sounds a little more _close to home_ than that," Will comments with a sudden curiosity about the doctor.

"This hour is about you, William," Hannibal reminds, crossing his legs causally. "Not myself."

"But you said we can talk about whatever I want right?" Will says rhetorically, gaining the upper hand a little. "I want to talk about you."

Hannibal makes a very particular _face_ at this, wincing slightly.

"Just for a second," Will adds with promise.

"If it helps you understand your own state of mind, then I shall allow it," Hannibal concedes, resting his hands on the edge of his armrests.

Hannibal doesn't usually like discussing his personal life with patients under any circumstances, then again majority of his patients aren't fifteen and baby-faced. Hannibal has been able to suppress the urge to devour Will visually, but he feels as if he can no longer control it. Will, with his wide eyes and pursed lips that curve ever so slightly near the corners, so bright and trusting as Hannibal consumes him with his gaze.

"You seem like a very open minded kind of guy," Will observes out loud, almost as if he's driving at a notion in particular. "Like you know how I feel personally..."

"With my profession, it's important to be," Hannibal replies like it's the least bit cryptic.

"But it's not just your job, is it?" Will poses, studying Dr. Lecter's expression and watching for any deviation in his perpetual neutrality. "It's also your life."

And just like that, the bright young boy had read him like an open book, detecting without a doubt that Hannibal was just like him. Hannibal, though petrified in his shock, had found Will's impeccable deduction skills to be quite exceptional. Perhaps Hannibal had let on a little more than he should have but Will would've figured him out sooner or later.

Hannibal glances off to the side for the briefest second, letting Will's assumption sink in and tell him everything he needs to know. Will didn't expect to be right about Hannibal, really just a shot in the dark, and when he _did_ realize what he'd just said it filled him with regret. The young boy suddenly felt guilty for invading Hannibal's life like that.

"I am so sorry," the boy begins to gush, leaning forward in his chair a little as he cups his face in his hands. "I didn't actually believe that you'd be-"

"Homosexual?" Hannibal interrupts, stoic expression back in full swing.

"Yeah... That..." Will whispers slowly, hanging his head down.

"You don't like that word, do you? You never say it," Hannibal discerns.

He rakes his eyes along the expanse of Will's neck, stretching downward as his curls shift with the gravity to reveal the undoubtedly smooth skin. Hannibal can picture running a big hand through Will's curls now, caressing the base of his skull and getting lost in the silk ribbons of hair. Will raises his head back up to meet Hannibal's gaze, rustling his curls.

"I don't like labels," Will says frankly.

"Nor do I."

"I'm sorry if I offended you in making assumptions. It wasn't my intention to make it sound like a witch hunt," Will apologizes, eyelashes flitting just marginally to convey amends.

"Don't be. You haven't offended me in any way," Hannibal reassures, loving the way Will's eyes flutter innocently.

"Then, I suppose, it wouldn't be too audacious of me to make a pass at you, would it?" Will phrases as if he's asking for permission, though the question itself makes this notion redundant.

Hannibal takes Will's offer into consideration, knowing it to be wrong in every sense of the word, and then some, but not precisely caring of the repercussions. Will is staring at the older man with a much more alluring set of blue and Hannibal can feel himself being roped in. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to corrupt every inch of the young boy the moment Will walked in through that door.

"No," Hannibal agrees, coming to a final summation. "It wouldn't."

Will stands up suddenly, taking Hannibal off guard but not enough to make him flinch. The young boy takes a step towards the chaise and eyes it precariously, mulling over his decision more thoroughly. It was a spur of the moment thing, sure, but Will had meant it. He just didn't think Hannibal would be up for it, being a professional and all. Then again...

It was blatantly clear what Hannibal wanted to do to Will the moment he shuffled in. It had been written across his face, though, concealed for the most part, Hannibal didn't intend to take advantage without consent. Hannibal was still a little iffy himself about the whole scenario, but who we he be to deny Will?

"When did you know?" Will asks distantly, running a hand along the length of the chaise.

Hannibal watches Will's fingertips drag almost seductively across the plush cushion, though it's mostly by accident. His motions are more stilled, more controlled and calculating, as if _testing the waters_ so to speak. Hannibal finds no harm in this, especially when Will is asking for something in particular from Hannibal. And he _knows_ what Will is asking.

"Just about your age. Give or a take year," Hannibal answers, standing up as well.

The older man walks slowly over to Will and lets his eyes drift across the narrow width of his shoulders, stalking the boy like he's prey. Will turns around when he hears Hannibal approach but keeps his head down as he takes a seat on the chaise. The ground is vacant for the most part until Hannibal's shoes obscure the view, prompting Will to look slowly up the length of his therapist.

"Does it hurt?" Will finds himself asking even though he already knows the answer.

"Of course," Hannibal says without pretense.

Will feels so insignificant under Hannibal's dark and looming presence, especially how Hannibal stares down at him with such longing, for lack of a better word. Will swallows and for a moment he thinks Hannibal will jump him right then and there, but the older man opts to take a seat next to him instead. It makes Will's palms sweat anxiously.

"But the pain can be dulled with the proper etiquette," he adds.

"I'm guessing my hour is almost up, huh?" Will inquires, changing the subject. He vaguely sounds disappointed, but perhaps a little relieved.

"It doesn't have to be," Hannibal offers, watching Will out of the corner of his eye to gauge any changes in body language. "I don't have another appointment until seven."

"You don't say?" Will acknowledges with a faint chuckle. He clasps his hands together, trying to still them when Hannibal moves closer. "Who'd waste another two hours with me?"

"I know it may be hard, William, but you really need to have more confidence in yourself," Hannibal lightly scolds, placing a hand on Will's thigh. "I, for one, could find immense _pleasure_ in having you for much longer. Several hours in one night, even."

The suggestion makes Will shudder with anticipation, particularly when Hannibal curls his large palm inward to rest between Will's slightly parted thighs. Hannibal caresses dangerously close to his groin and it invokes all sorts of feelings within the teen. Will can sense the shame settling in the pit of his stomach, like the biblical bile his mother spews daily, but he suppresses the urge long enough to let himself enjoy this.

"Can't rush a masterpiece, after all," Hannibal murmurs into Will's ear, making him shiver. He nuzzles against the side of Will's head, inhaling the fragrance of his chocolate curls. "Especially one as flawless as you, William."

"Don't..." Will protests, shying away from Hannibal's lips just as they brush the shell of his ear.

"Why? Does it embarrass you to be called sweet things?"

Hannibal cranes his head slightly so he can kiss Will's neck softly, relishing the sigh that escapes Will's lips unabashed. Hannibal reaches up with his spare hand to cup the base of Will's skull, pulling him closer so Hannibal can sink his teeth into tender flesh. This elicits a sudden gasp that is coated in damp huffs of air.

"Just not used to it," Will professes with a shiver, letting Hannibal bite and suck on his neck painfully hard but not enough to break skin. "Always afraid it might be a lie."

"Do you think I'm lying?" Hannibal asks curiously after releasing Will's neck.

"I hope not," Will replies honestly, laughing shortly because he's so nervous.

"I wouldn't say something if I didn't mean it," Hannibal proclaims.

The hand groping Will between his thighs leaves for the briefest moment to cup his chin and angle his face up towards Hannibal's. They stare at each other, letting their breaths hang in the air and mingle together before joining in an ardent kiss. Will tenses under the contact, bracing his hands against Hannibal's broad chest for fear he might lose consciousness.

Will turns marginally to face Hannibal, getting swept away by the dominance radiating off of the older man and accepting this for what it is. Hannibal drops his hand back into Will's lap, rubbing the heel of his hand against the boy's hard on, while the other cups the small of his back to press him closer. Will moans into Hannibal's mouth, opening up just enough to grant Hannibal entry.

Their kiss is much more heated this time around, consisting of tongues and nipping teeth. Hannibal leans over Will, signaling him to lie back against the chaise until Hannibal is covering the boy's entire body with his own. Will is a bit stiff at first but ultimately melts with each gentle nip Hannibal bestows upon his parted lips, swallowing the gasps that eventually follow soon after.

"I'm going to undress you now, William," Hannibal informs him, putting to rest any anxiety the young boy might be feeling.

Swiftly and expertly, Hannibal strips Will of his clothes with practiced ease until the beautiful boy is completely bare for his eyes only. There is a light dusting of hair over his groin and naval, hinting at his growing maturity, and it satisfies Hannibal in a very specific way. Hannibal is impressed with the sight, to say the least, and it makes Will blush under the attention. Maybe a part of him was ashamed by what was about to happen, or maybe it was just nerves getting the better of him. Either way, Will wanted it regardless.

Hannibal caresses Will's skin lovingly, admiring the planes of developing chest and abdomen as the boy lies pliant beneath him. Will watches him from under hooded eyes, arching willfully up into Hannibal's rough yet gentle touch. It makes goosebumps break out along his body in varying degrees, causing Will to shiver reflexively.

"You are such a beautiful boy," Hannibal praises, wanting to consume all of Will right here and now.

Will closes his eyes, concentrating on the feel rather than the sight, finding it funny how vision obscures some senses in that way. He can feel Hannibal's lips on his neck again before kissing and nipping a trail down the length of his flank at a leisurely pace, teasing Will but also testing him at the same time. Hannibal keeps his eyes trained on Will even as he goes lower. Chest to abdomen to belly button, biting, sucking, and then...

Hannibal's mouth is down between his legs as his big hands cup the backs of Will's knees to keep his backside poised up slightly for better access. Will gasps and his eyes snap open instantly when Hannibal's tongue starts to probe incessantly against the one place that has remained untouched. It makes Will squirm at the odd and foreign nature of it, but somehow it felt wonderful just knowing it was Hannibal.

"Some might say your practice is unethical, doctor," Will chuckles nervously, trying for an icebreaker and failing as he gasps.

"Unethical in a professional sense, but otherwise normal in an intimate setting," Hannibal enlightens, breath ghosting across flushed skin. "Though, I can see how the lines can be blurred in this particular situation."

He squirms more when Hannibal delves further in between Will's legs, slicking up his entrance while pausing to kiss the boy's inner thighs tenderly. Will's legs are shaking, whether it's from the stimulation or the restless way his legs are propped up in the air is uncertain, but Hannibal continues either way until Will is slick enough to his liking.

Not the most ceremonious deflowering, but it would have to do given the circumstances. Hannibal lowers Will's legs to let them rest against the chaise but keeps them spread wide enough to allow Hannibal a different kind of access. Will spares a look down the flat of his body, noticing that Hannibal had thoroughly sucked on his fingers and knowing where they would be in the immediate future.

"Don't worry, William. This part won't hurt," Hannibal murmurs, sealing this promise with a kiss to a prominent hip bone.

He stares up at the ceiling, willing himself to control his breathing when he feels Hannibal press his saliva slick fingers into his virgin body. Will whines at the intrusion, fighting the urge to clench his body as Hannibal stretches him slowly with two fingers. Will is uncomfortable by the way he lies completely naked before Hannibal as he's prepared thoroughly, while the older man still has that damn suit on.

But maybe that was the point? This wasn't about Hannibal. It was about Will. Still, it was Will's hour and he felt like he deserved to see what power laid beneath that ridiculously well-tailored suit. Will wanted to make Hannibal feel everything he was feeling and more. He wanted to try everything with Hannibal all in one session, even though he knew that wasn't possible. Will understood now why Hannibal had made that comment about spending several hours with him, teaching him all the different ways to make love.

Hannibal fingers him more fluidly now, as smoothly as he can really, and thrusts his fingers with more enthusiasm than before. Will feels relaxed enough to be the tiniest bit rough with him. Will starts to hump himself down onto Hannibal's fingers fervently, uncaring of the sting that follows when Hannibal adds a third finger inside of him to stretch Will even more.

"Please..." Will moans, fisting his hands in the front of Hannibal's suit as if to say _take this off now_.

"Patience," Hannibal tsks, kissing Will's thigh.

Will has his arms thrown above his head because he doesn't know where else to put them as Hannibal prepares him with a gentle hand, thrusting and curling his fingers. Will buries his face into the side of his arm, trying, in vain, to hide the way he blushes when Hannibal studies the lines of desire that grace his face bashfully. Will feels so full by this alone, but he knows it won't come close to the real thing.

It all seems to happen in a fast blur, one moment Will is whining and gasping softly as he fucks himself onto Hannibal's hand and the next Hannibal is bracing both of his hands on either side of Will as he eclipses the boy's narrow body. Will looks up at Hannibal with a dazed expression, curls mussed against the surface of the chaise and arms stretched above his head in silent surrender.

He truly is a beautiful boy when he's all flushed and panting on his back with his body blossoming open just for Hannibal. Hannibal is poised between Will's legs, watching Will watch him intently with an almost pitiful little expression. Hannibal bends down and kisses Will softly, stifling the sigh the perches just on the tip of Will's tongue.

Hannibal sits back and casually sheds his jacket, draping it over the head of the chaise before ridding himself of his waist coat and tie. He lets Will reach out to undo his belt, speeding along the process so Hannibal can unbutton his shirt nimbly. Will's hands are shaking by the time the front of Hannibal's slacks are open and he tries the slide his hand inside but he gets swatted away.

"I want to feel you," Will whines petulantly, pouting even when he's denied.

"You will. Soon."

His dress shirt slides down his shoulders when Hannibal goes to take off his shoes, bending down slightly. Hannibal lets his pants and underwear fall to the ground when he stands up, giving Will his first good look at him. Will shudders visibly, wide eyes unblinking as they take in the form that is uniquely Hannibal. Will even tries to crawl away on his elbows a little when Hannibal settles between his legs again.

"You have nothing to fear," Hannibal promises, hanging his head down so his hair tickles Will's forehead. "It will hurt, but I'll be so slow and gentle with you that you'll be begging for more."

Will makes a pitiful little sound at these words that's choked up between a sob and a whine. What the hell did he get himself into? He was supposed to be getting _cured_ because that's what Agatha wanted and now... Now he was about to have sex with his therapist. A complete stranger who was at least a good three decades older than him, but fuck did it feel right.

Maybe he was just having second thoughts because he was nervous, or perhaps he did feel a little ashamed of himself for liking this. Either way, Will was taken out of his momentary lapse when Hannibal stretched one of Will's legs up over his shoulder. Will winces when the back of his knee finds a secure little place of Hannibal's broad shoulders, feeling the slight burn as the muscle is pulled taut.

Will's other leg comes to rest on Hannibal's hip, draping it over haphazardly to spread himself open for Hannibal. This makes Will's body slouch down the chaise, causing him to rub his backside shamelessly against Hannibal's arousal. Will bites his lip, provoking Hannibal to nudge against him so he can watch the innocence slip from Will's demeanor.

Hannibal feels somewhat wet against Will and the boy figures he must've took the liberty to ease the way with a little more saliva, though he didn't see what use it would do. It _was_ going to hurt no matter what, Will knew, but Hannibal was so caring and tender that when he did push inside Will, he made sure to murmur breathless endearments and hold onto him tightly.

Will whimpers as Hannibal takes his time pushing in and letting Will adjust as painless as possible. Hannibal loves the way Will squeezes his eyes shut during the whole ordeal. Hannibal rests his cheek against Will's calf, gripping his ankle to keep it properly poised on his shoulder while the other caresses aimlessly over Will's still developing body.

"You are doing so well, William," Hannibal mumbles, panting slightly as he slides his cock deeper into Will's tight body that remained untouched until now. "Just a little more pain, and then I promise I'll make it all better."

Will is trying with all his might to swallow his sobs, but the corners of his eyes sting when tears dare to prickle. Maybe Will would let himself cry if it weren't for Hannibal's soft words of encouragement. Maybe he just didn't want to look weak in front of the doctor. Will bites down on his bottom lip and wades through the pain until Hannibal is fully inside him.

Hannibal permits Will's leg to slide off of his shoulder to rest at the junction of Hannibal's elbow instead, relieving some of the ache in Will's taut body. This allows Hannibal to bend down far enough to capture Will's lips in a passionate kiss as he opts to pull out slowly, absorbing any whines that follow after.

All Will can think about in this moment is how angry Agatha will be if she finds out about this, but Will supposes Hannibal would lie for him. After all, Hannibal would be in trouble too. Hannibal already broke the rule of fraternizing with a patient, much less a minor, and he could lose his license for it, but considering that it was Will he was deflowering, Hannibal could honestly care less.

The only thing that remained now in Hannibal's quiet office was the sound of Will gasping and wincing as Hannibal made love to him slowly. Will wraps his arms around Hannibal's broad frame, clinging to anything he could get his hands on to ground in this moment. Hannibal didn't seem to mind this much, though, even as Will clawed at his back. It made Hannibal's hips snap more purposely into Will, coaxing more half-hearted moans out of the young boy.

Will's body clenches around him almost painfully tight, as if Will isn't relaxing his body well enough, but he is. Hannibal never thought taking a virgin could hurt so good. But Hannibal has to marvel at how well Will takes it and, despite all the pain, doesn't let himself give in. Will is a remarkable patient in more ways than one.

"You take pain quite exceptionally, William," Hannibal observes, kissing along the boy's neck as he thrusts gently into him. "Almost as if you like it."

"Shut up..."

Will blushes, hiding his face in Hannibal's neck out of embarrassment and hangs on as the older man thrusts particularly sharp inwards. It forces a noise out of Will, a very satisfied noise unless Hannibal was mistaken. Hannibal smirks and does it again and again until Will is a trembling, panting mess, proving Hannibal's point.

Hannibal grabs ahold of Will's hips, angling them up a little so he can thrust with more leverage and take Will's breath away. Will's nails scratch down Hannibal's chest and abdomen, leaving welts in their wake before fading away. Will can feel himself leaking against the flat of his stomach and if he doesn't touch himself soon he might explode.

In this moment, Will is beautiful. His curls are plastered to his forehead, including the chaise, and his chest is heaving with each damp and jagged breath he takes as he strokes himself to completion. Hannibal can see no shame or guilt in Will's half-lidded eyes shrouded in ecstasy, but acceptance. Like he's finally able to let Agatha's poisonous words undulate down until nothing but pleasure remains.

Hannibal sits back, bringing Will to sit in his lap effortlessly, seeing as how Will is substantially smaller than Hannibal and still growing. Will is still impaled on his cock, and holds the boy close. Will's legs are braced on either side of Hannibal's thighs, driving the older man's cock deeper into him.

Hannibal tangles a hand in his hair and buries his face in the damp curls while Will attempts to wiggle his body enough to replicate humping. Oddly, it's enough for them both. Will comes against Hannibal's stomach, stroking his cock fervently even through his aftershocks.

His body seizes up, tightening even more around Hannibal's cock, but the bliss numbs out the pain. Hannibal licks the fading bruise he left on Will's neck, knowing it will be gone within the hour, but relishing it all the same. He wants to leave a mark on Will that is visible to everyone and will last for days, but he can't for obvious reasons.

Instead, Hannibal puts his mouth to good use against Will's, consuming his moans that come out unabashed. Will's lips move desperately with Hannibal's, riding out the uncoordinated thrusts. Will's entrance is oversensitized to the point where he isn't sure if his muscles are throbbing or if it's Hannibal's cock, but he seems to get his answer either way when he feels the warmth spread throughout him.

Hannibal doesn't make so much as a sound, keeping himself prim and civilized down to the last thrust and not giving away any hint of enjoyment other than the way he kisses Will passionately. Will whines, squirming at the odd sensation of feeling Hannibal's release mark him internally before escaping unceremoniously.

"I guess I have to work on my etiquette, huh?" Will says bashfully, referring to the mess he made against Hannibal's abdomen.

"That's what therapy is for," Hannibal offers with a slight smile.

"Between you and me, I don't think _Agatha_ will want to be bringing me back to see you anytime soon," Will says sardonically, wincing when Hannibal eases him off of his lap.

"Why? Do you plan on telling her what we did today?" Hannibal inquires, becoming professional again even as he cleans evidence from the crime scene, so to speak.

"Yeah, right..." Will scoffs, finding his clothes so he can get dressed. He looks up at Hannibal suddenly, furrowing his brow line. "I... Well, I just assumed _you_ were going to tell her. Seeing as how you take your job... seriously. I mean, you must be obligated to share details that might _stint my progress_."

Sarcasm might be Will's worst enemy, but damn does he sound cute when he's being petulant.

"Progress doesn't happen overnight, especially not with therapy. It's a gradual process that takes years sometimes," Hannibal says, getting dressed as well. "And that's exactly what I'll tell Agatha."

Will gives Hannibal a dubious look, wanting to know if he's being for real and is shocked when he finds no hint of amusement in Hannibal's eyes. Somehow the idea of someone like Hannibal being a _bad boy_, so to speak, made Will want the older man to take him twice more on this chaise. And then some.

"You'd lie to her?" Will asks skeptically when Hannibal is prim and proper once again.

"_Lie_ is such vulgar term. It leaves a bitter taste on the pallet," Hannibal chides, straightening his tie.

"Which term do you prefer, then, Dr. Lecter?" Will inquires half-amused, pulling his shirt over his head.

"Withholding information."


End file.
